After tying up the stranger, Melvis and Emilya dragged him to the inn’s main hall.
The place was deserted at this late hour of the night, steeped in a peaceful silence broken only by the crackling of a few embers in the fireplace.
Emilya sat down on one of the solid wooden chairs while Melvis hurried to carefully bandage her mistress’s palm.
Once the bandage was secured, Emilya fixed a icy glare on the prisoner, who sat across from her with his wrists tightly bound.
She pulled off his hood to get a better look at his face: he had light brown hair and emerald green eyes.
But neither of them allowed themselves to be intimidated by his appearance.
“You’re the boy from the auction house, aren’t you?
Did we know each other before?
I don’t remember you,” Emilya stated.
“Mmmh…
Yes, that’s me.
If you don’t remember me, then what about your servant?
She was the one who came to my place asking for strong sleeping drafts two or three years ago, wasn’t she?” Lucius tilted his head, thoughtfully observing the bloody dagger resting on the table and then the bandage wrapped around Emilya’s hand.
She intentionally hurt herself so she wouldn’t yield to sleep.
She thinks fast, and instead of plunging the blade into her leg like anyone else would have done, she chose her hand so her movements wouldn’t be hindered.
I think I’m going to like her, the thief thought, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
“Are you mocking me?” Emilya asked, clearly annoyed by his playful tone.
“Melvis, do you remember him?” “Now that you mention it, I have a vague feeling I do.” Melvis stared at him more intently, then confirmed that even though his appearance had changed, she recognized him hazily.
To Emilya, however, he remained a total stranger.
She resumed her interrogation while Melvis finished tending to her hand, asking the exact same questions as before: who was he, and why had he stolen her map?
He explained that he was born into a family of herbalists, but it wasn’t his path.
So he left his kin behind to become a warrior.
However, adventuring proved far more complicated than it seemed: it required gold and connections to enter a prestigious academy.
He had set out in search of a master warrior and ended up working for various nobles from both the provinces and the capital.
That line of work had eventually brought him to this city to retrieve an item for a provincial count, but upon seeing the map, he decided it would serve his current master far better than the item he was originally hired to fetch.
“And there you have it!” he concluded with a wide grin, as if proud of his own story.
“Charming story, but I didn’t ask for your life story,” Emilya cut in coldly, completely detached.
She then ordered Melvis to search him for the map, which the servant promptly found inside the inner pocket of his cloak.
“Come on, let’s untie him.
He’s useless to me anyway.” “Wait, I can help you!” the thief blurted out hurriedly.
“How?” Emilya asked, intrigued.
“You just robbed me a few minutes ago—what could you possibly have to offer?” “Sleep,” the thief answered with total confidence.
“I noticed the dark circles under your eyes.
You haven’t slept in a week or two, have I guessed right?
After you came to my place years ago, what on earth happened to get you into a state like this?
I really wonder,” he added, genuinely curious.
Emilya didn’t answer his question, but remaining open to discussion, she listened to what he had to say next.
“When you visited my home back then, we gave you several vials containing the powder I threw in your face tonight.
That’s Moonflower, a rare plant that only grows in specific places—one of which happens to be right next to where I grew up.
I can recreate that potion so you can finally get a good night’s rest.
What do you say?” Emilya pondered for a moment.
Everything lined up.
Without further hesitation, she accepted.
Melvis tried to talk her out of it, but in vain: running on empty, Emilya was far too exhausted and lacked the mental clarity to reason properly.
A pounding headache was splitting her skull, likely aggravated by her injury.
She rose slowly and turned toward him one last time before leaving: “Consider yourself warned: if you cross me even once, I will kill you without hesitation.
Have I made myself clear?” Emilya threatened with a murderous gaze.
She then instructed Melvis to untie him.
“No need,” he chimed in, perfectly composed.
He slipped out of his bindings all by himself.
In a flash, he closed the distance between them and whispered into Emilya’s ear with a slight smirk, openly teasing her: “You see?
Between the two of us, you were the one in greater danger.” Melvis reacted instantly, drawing her weapon and pointing it at his throat with a furious glare, demanding he step back.
He raised his hands defensively to show he meant no harm and slowly stepped away.
“You couldn’t have killed me anyway,” Emilya retorted.
With those words, she headed upstairs, leaving the thief intrigued by her parting line.
Right before disappearing up the stairwell, she asked for his name.
“The name’s Lucius.
Pleasure seeing you again, Emilya,” he called out, his sly smile returning.
“That’s a nice name for a crook like you,” she murmured without turning around.
“Why, thank you,” he replied sarcastically.
Once inside her room, Melvis helped her change, and Emilya drifted off to sleep within moments.
Melvis retreated to her own quarters and collapsed onto her bed, barely changing her clothes.
As for Lucius, he returned to his employer’s estate to deliver the requested item before going to sleep in one of the guest rooms provided to him.
Two hours later, Emilya woke up with a start, gasping for air and drenched in sweat.
Her vision blurred, and tears suddenly began pouring down her face from sheer exhaustion over her condition.
Hearing her sobs, Melvis rushed in immediately and wrapped her arms around her.
“What happened, Emilya?” “It was even worse than before…
It feels as though something inside me has completely broken.
It was horrifying, and the worst part is…
I can’t remember a single thing!
I’m so tired…
I can’t take this anymore, why is this happening to me?” “Shh, it’s alright, Emilya.
We’re going to find a solution, this will all be over soon, don’t worry,” Melvis whispered softly, doing her best to soothe her.
“I don’t want to get up,” Emilya murmured softly.
“You don’t have to.
If you want, we can stay right here all day.” They remained like that for a long while until Emilya finally managed to calm down.
Just outside the door, Lucius overheard Emilya’s weeping.
He had come up to discuss their plans for the next day, but reconsidered and quietly left the inn instead.
On his way back to his master’s house to sleep, rest didn’t come easily to him: one single question kept swirling in his mind…
What could possibly be causing her so much grief?
A few hours later, the bedroom door swung wide open.
Lucius walked in unannounced, holding a paper bag that radiated the warm, delicious scent of fresh pastries.
“Rise and shine, girls!
Breakfast is served!” he announced cheerfully.
Melvis sat up abruptly, glaring daggers at him: “Do you ever knock before barging in?” “Hey, we’re partners now, aren’t we?
No need to stand on ceremony!” Lucius countered, placing the bag on the table with a bright smile.
Emilya slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her heavy eyes.
Lucius’s noisy entrance, annoying as it was, somehow managed to dispel the heavy gloom hanging over the room.
While they ate, Lucius laid out the situation.
The first step was to find the Moonflowers, he explained with a mouthful of bread, and to do that, they had to venture into the Black Forest, home of the Thorn Witch, to steal them from her garden.
Emilya nearly choked.
“Is stealing the only thing on your mind?!” she gasped.
“And on top of that, you want to rob the Thorn Witch?!
Have you completely lost your mind?
Why don’t we just ask her if she’d be willing to give us a few?” “Do you honestly think you can reason with a witch?” Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow.
While the two argued, Melvis quietly enjoyed her meal without interrupting, before suggesting that they try speaking with the witch first.
If that failed, they could fallback on Lucius’s method.
At those words, the thief revealed his backup plan: he intended to use Emilya and Melvis as bait while he snuck around to find and pick the Moonflowers himself.
Neither girl was thrilled about the plan, but unlike Lucius, neither of them knew what Moonflowers looked like or where to find them.
The mere thought of confronting the witch sent sharp headaches throbbing through Emilya’s temples.
Did I really make the right choice by teaming up with him?
she wondered, already questioning her decision from the night before.
Before heading into the Black Forest, however, they needed to assess each other’s abilities and weaknesses to avoid getting in one another’s way.
Lucius decided that Emilya would go first because, despite being the strongest in magic, she was the most mentally fragile.
“And who appointed you leader to decide these things?” Emilya snapped, offended by his bluntness.
Yet Lucius had hit a crucial point: practicing magic required absolute mental strength and willpower.
If either was lacking, a spell could misfire or even backfire on its caster.
Emilya was, in essence, a walking time bomb.
“We can’t afford to have your magic fail or blow up in your face in the middle of a fight,” he pointed out, eyeing her as if trying to make her feel guilty.
“Who do you think I am?
Of course that won’t happen!” she asserted, staring him dead in the eye.
“Is that so?” Lucius smirked, intrigued.
Suddenly, he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the table and teased her: “If you can burn this apple before it hits the floor—without scorching the floorboards—then maybe I’ll reconsider my judgment.” Without warning, he dropped the fruit.
But long before it could touch the ground, Emilya reduced the apple to ashes in a flash of light.
Lucius let out an appreciative whistle, though his gaze remained observant and calculating.
He stood up and announced he would wait for them in the courtyard behind the inn.
Before stepping through the door, he shared his thoughts on her quick demonstration: “You can even cast magic without relying on your staff.
I’m genuinely impressed,” he admitted.
“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.
You underestimate me far too much,” Emilya replied, equal parts amused and annoyed by his comment.
“I look forward to finding out,” he murmured as he shut the door behind him, excited for what lay ahead.
They dressed and made their way out through the back door leading directly into the courtyard.
Lucius was standing there with about a hundred apples, and without a word of warning, he tossed one straight at Emilya, who incinerated it instantly.
She didn’t even flinch—deep down, she had expected nothing less from him.
Melvis, on the other hand, was furious that he had attacked without notice.
Lucius explained to her that in real combat, there are no rules: the strongest, smartest, and fastest wins.
Emilya had simply shown the right instinct by burning the apple right away.
“Nice!” he said approvingly.
He kept throwing apples from different angles, occasionally tossing one toward Melvis so she would step in to protect Emilya.
They made an extraordinarily complementary pair: whenever an attack came from a blind spot Emilya couldn’t see, Melvis was there to cover her, and vice versa.
As the training session dragged on, Emilya began to tire.
Her vision blurred and her knees grew weak.
Yet Lucius’s throws didn’t slow down; if anything, they became faster, making it increasingly difficult for Emilya to counter them.
At one point, she dropped to one knee, and an apple nearly struck her head on.
But to everyone’s surprise, she caught it dead in its tracks with her bare hand.
Seeing where the throw was aimed, Melvis lunged directly at Lucius, but Emilya called her off.
With that final toss, Lucius stopped completely and held back further attacks.
“Alright, let’s call it a day.
I can see you’re running on fumes.
I wasn’t expecting much, but I have to admit I’m impressed.
Mages are usually physically weak—how on earth did you catch a projectile coming at full speed with your bare hand?” he inquired, intrigued.
“I told you, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, and you underestimate me way too much.” With those words, she stood up as if nothing had happened and walked away.
After that intense session, Emilya was utterly spent.
Severe headaches throbbed in her head as if someone were striking her skull with a hammer, accompanied by cold sweats and muscle cramps.
On top of that, stopping the apple with her bare hand had reopened her wound.
Melvis noticed and tried to help, but Emilya wanted to be left alone.
Respecting her wishes without argument, Melvis went to her own room, deeply concerned.
Several hours passed and night soon fell.
After finally managing to soothe the symptoms brought on by the extreme drain on her magic, Emilya lay down, praying she wouldn’t endure another nightmare as dreadful as the night before.
Around three in the morning, she woke up.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open window.
She stepped out onto the balcony and gazed at the moon shining in the dark night sky.
It was then that he appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost.
As the moment unfolded, a sudden wave of intuition washed over Emilya—an intense, overpowering sense of déjà vu.
—That’s it…
I remember!